I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you, I'm not...MOM!!!!!!!

The receipt on the left represents the lengths to which I will go to in my ongoing effort to never again have one-on-one human contact with strangers. (click the image to see it in all of its odd glory)

I opted to use a debit card to pay for three copies totaling twenty nine cents rather than have to go to the (not busy at all) counter to pay with actual money (coins scrounged from my car).

I find that this is becoming a bit of a problem in my daily life lately:

*I do all of my banking either on-line or via cash machines, often disoriented and asking the machines when we're nearing the end of the transaction, "do you have any lollipops?"

*I opt to buy clothing and shoes online, often paying for both shipping and returns, just so they're not "judging" me about my large-ish (9.5) hooves and less than conventional taste in fashion.

*I started using drugstore.com to buy things like lotion and cosmetics, when often times they are actually cheaper at the Walgreens 2 miles from my house.

*I have been spearheading the national campaign to get drive thru windows at Chipotle and Jimmy Johns. We're only 39, 994 signatures away from the 40,000 we need. Go, us!

* I recently spent 4 hours and 27 minutes yelling into the window of a residential residence, "Cheeseburger, nothing but ketchup and cheese, small fries, and a large vanilla malt! LARGE VANILLA MALT! PLEASE!" before I realized I wasn't going to have my wishes fulfilled. Alcohol may or may not have been involved. Sad Cheetos on the couch in front of bad late-night TV may have occurred, no one can really say.


What is wrong with me that I need to seek out any available option that doesn't involve actually talking to humans without an intercom involved? At what point did typing my credit card information into the computer become more desirable than discussing the finer points of cat collars with Tobie, the ambiguously ambiguous man (?) at the pet store? At what point do I start printing my political manifestos on cut up brown paper bags and plotting my coup led entirely by members of the Menudo fan club?

I'm a bit worried.

If I stop clipping my toenails and move to a cabin in the woods where I need to save my feces in a jar for "future scientific research", well...
I just hope y'all intervene.

Get me a nice haircut, a lovely hot-stone, salt-scrub pedicure, a handful of anti-psychotics and a tumbler of vodka and tell me how nice the world is.
Remind me that recluses rarely look sexy on the 6:00 news.
Remind me that physically sexually harassing strangers is fun! With a capital F!
Remind me that my husband will probably leave me for a non people-phobe.
Remind me that hairy, ungroomed hermits rarely get laid.
Remind me how much I secretly enjoy but act grossed out about the "too long" hug.
Remind me how much I love touching butts.
Remind me about how much I LOVE skeeving out people by putting my hand on their arm or shoulder when I'm talking to them, for fun.

Remind me that I can't give y'all a nice, big mushy, wet kiss when I meet you if I continue like this, therefore scarring you for life and causing you to recoil into your own little world where you neither touch nor directly speak to anyone.

XO (big, wet, mushy direct human contact kisses and hugs from me, even if it totally grosses you out)

WM

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming...

I know I boycotted memes, but I've got nothing else today, and I can't say no to the lovely Freida Bee. I also can't figure out why Blogger insists on only letting me write in italics right now, but that's neither here nor there.

Because I'm unable to put together anything substantive today...

Ten years ago, what were you doing?

Ten years ago, I was in the final stretch of Culinary School and counting every second until I would be done. I’m glad I went, but I hated most of my fellow students by this point and needed to be the fuck away from them. Nighttime, I was working nearly full-time at my first cooking job- a medium-fancy seasonal place that was located on an old tugboat on the Mississippi river. The boat had been converted into a B&B/restaurant, but it was docked- it didn’t actually go anywhere. The boat was heavy, but it still moved slightly with the waves. After 8+ hours on board, I was usually a little “wobbly” back on land. I still consider this my favorite food job I’ve had (not counting owning my own place) and wish it still existed so I could work there part-time again. The kitchen itself was tiny- think butts to nuts- but it was horribly efficient and we all had a ton of fun. Two of us on the line could put out 200+ covers on a really busy night (we did all of the salads, appetizers and entrees- in other words, a LOT), but as fast and furious as it got, by the end of the night and after a glass or two of wine we were all friends again. I taught myself to really multi-task here, and finally learned, hands-on, what it all meant - this profession of mine. I don’t know that I would be where I am now had I not worked there first.

Five Things on Today's "To Do" List...

1.Get a few belated things in the mail & run a few mundane errands.

2. Maybe work out, maybe not.

3. Maybe shower.

4. Try to not: get in trouble, put my foot in my mouth, make promises I can’t keep, speak without thinking, lose my keys, have something stuck in my teeth, lose my pants, stare blankly at anyone, say “fuck” too much, eat too much cheese, pull anyone’s finger or punch strangers.

5. Learn Mandarin Chinese.

If I were a Billionaire, I would...

1.Buy an Island, turn into a unkempt recluse.

2. Hire a personal assassin on retainer.

3. Take yodeling lessons.

4. Hire someone to chew my food for me.

5. Start my own religion based on achieving a higher consciousness through dutiful worship of powerful aliens from the planet Partytron.

Three Bad Habits I Have...

1. Some people say I’m too successful and charming.

2. Spinning my wheels- never having time, yet getting nothing of any consequence done.

3. Procrastinating on things that need immediate attention, diving head first into things that could use a bit more thought and planning.

3.5. You. You’re a hard habit to break.

Five Places I've Lived

1. Minnesota (Duluth)

2. Minnesota (NE Minneapolis)

3. Minnesota (N Minneapolis)

4. Minnesota (Lowertown St. Paul)

5. Minnesota (Current home in St. Paul)

Five Jobs I've Had (I’ve listed a few before in another meme, I’m trying to not repeat here)

1. Plant nursery worker. (Just like Freida! This is the only reason I know anything about gardening)

2. Cook/Chef/Pastry Chef/Dishwasher/Server/Hostess/overall Kitchen whore

3. Call Girl (Just kidding- that’s my alter ego, “Champagne Misti”- not me)

4. Jewelry inspector at a wholesale jeweler.

5. Counter Girl at a Chinese restaurant (I pretty much sat and took orders for take-out. That's it.)

(This next one is my addition)

Three things I wish I could do today, but can’t:

1) Not work.

2) Win the lottery.

3) Advanced Trigonometry. I never was any good at math.

The donkey and the rhubarb

It's Sunday- not a lot going on, not much to say here. I promise a post with actual words and sentences tomorrow, but today is mostly visual for my ADD/marginally illiterate readers. I welcome one and all here at Blog de Whiskey, I am an equal opportunity offender/grosser outer.

Perfect day yesterday (well, aside from the tornado sirens in the evening and several downpours). I had no plans, so I just laid in the grass and looked up at this:

I laid there staring at the sky until a colony of ants started testing how ticklish I am (very) and the gnats made me look like a crazy person, swatting repeatedly at what- to the naked eye- seemed like nothing. Damn gnats. And while we're at it- damn Gnus too. You showoffs with your silent "g", you think you're so special, don't you? Huh?


I brought the furry turd factories out with me too. I'm afraid they'll run away if I bring them outside unrestrained which would cause my cold, hard little heart to break, so I restrain them & protect them with all sorts of harnesses, straps, flea collars and such and such. Poor things. The nerds of the cat world.
Pooter LOVES being outside:

Trouble/Mudbutt? Not so much. He hid in the currant bush the whole time:



I made the Mr. pick me a whole mess o'rhubarb as I had a project in mind.
I started by cooking a bunch of cut up rhubarb with a bit of sugar, some water and a few raspberries (for color.)

I cooked it until everything was nice and soft. Then, I strained the whole thing through my old-school chinois I got from my Grandma years ago.


So far, so good.
Then I took the liquid, cooked it one more time with MORE cut up rhubarb (and a little more sugar) and repeated the straining process. It sounds involved, but it really wasn't.

The end result:

You're probably asking yourself, "What ever is that crazy Whiskey going to do with rhubarb syrup? Is she going to use it on pancakes?(maybe) Is she going to pour it over her butter and bologna sandwiches? (no) Is she using this as a front for her moonshine production again? (I plead the fifth)

No, my friends. I had a much better use in mind for this seriously delicious stuff.

I introduce to you, the Rhubarbtini! (copyright 2008 Whiskeymarie Cocktail Enterprises, inc.)



And, yes- it did taste as good as it looks. Think tart cosmo with a lovely rhubarb bite. We also made rhubarb gin & tonics- maybe even better than the 'tini. I can't wait to see what else I can make with this.



Oh, and I got a double-yolker when I was making breakfast today. I used to cook brunch at a restaurant where another woman that worked there would tell customers that when they got a double-yolker it meant they were very, very fertile. This statement was usually met with a blank stare and uncomfortable giggle. This never stopped being funny to me.


That's all I've got for now.

Go out and enjoy your Sunday- the weekend is almost over and that means less time to do something so stupid that you:

a) get arrested.
b) get yourself filmed by Court TV.
c) get kicked out of the house.
d) lose your pants.
e) All of the above.


XO

P.S: I'll be humming the Donkey Rhubarb song all day...